


After Party

by ScaleyWriter



Series: Thoughts of a Boss [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Boss, Friendship, Recreational Drug Use, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaleyWriter/pseuds/ScaleyWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after the mission '....and a better life', the Boss and Johnny go for a ride.</p><p>Non romantic, just friends, boss' inner dialogue</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Party

**Author's Note:**

> Boss is female, using voice 1.

I feel the cold hard steel of the barrel of a gun press into my temple.

There's someone standing in front of me, I can't see them, they're hidden in the shadows. Either side of me, forcing me on my knees by my arms are two huge guys, I can't tell if they're gang members or what, they're not dressed in colours that I recognise.

A malicious voice comes from the figure in front of me. 'Are you ready to die, Saint?'

'I'll see you in hell, fucker.' I barely get the words out of my mouth before the trigger is pulled, a loud bang deafens me and I wake up in a cold sweat.

Looking around the room wildly, I try to remember where I am. Seeing the familiar view of an RPG launcher lounging against the wall, I relax.

I'm home. I'm safe.

I hate the dreams. I try and get as fucked up as possible each night to have a dreamless sleep. Not healthy, I know. But it's all I can do.

I sit up in bed and my head pounds in response. _Ow._ So that's why I'm here. Judging by the booming bass below me, the party is still in full swing, and I pussied out early.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, noting I am still fully dressed. _Johnny is never gonna let me live this down._

I hear a soft knock at the door, which is surprising since there the cacophony of noise reaching a fever pitch.

'Yeah,' I call, by way of admitting entrance.

'Hey boss,' says Shaundi, peeking her head around the door. 'Y'alright?'

'I been better,' I say truthfully, standing up and rubbing the back of my neck and stretching. 'I take it the party's still going strong?'

'Lotta people beginning to crash out,' she admits, playing with one of her dreads. 'I think Laura _may_ have put too much stuff in those snicker doodles.'

I shake my head, 'Goddamn Laura. Hey, did Johnny come back yet? I didn't manage to see him before I...passed out.'

'Yeah, he's back, I had to force him to get changed, he was fuckin' _soaked_ in cop blood.'

'Sounds about right to me,' I pick up my nine from the table by the bed and tuck it in my waistband. Party or not, you can never be too careful. 'Didja tell him where I was?' I really hope she didn't.

'Nah, I think you may have got away with it. I think he thinks you're with someone up here, if y'know what I mean.'

'Thanks Shaundi, owe you one for that.' I leave the room with her, and we head back down into the heart of our crib.

Since we've been pulling in a lot of cash, it's pretty decked out. Huge sound system, stripper poles, fancy furniture, you name it.

As we descend the staircase, I see Johnny sitting at the bar, bottle of beer in hand. He's not getting involved with the strippers like the other guys. I know why. Aisha's funeral, her actual one this time, wasn't that long gone.

Did I expect him to get over it so soon? Not really. But part of me hoped that he would.

After the adrenaline wears off, your real feelings start to surface and god knows I know how that feels.

'Hey Johnny, you alright, man?' I say, sitting on a bar stool next to him. He looks up at me, but as usual, he's wearing his damn shades so I can't tell what he's really thinking.

'What do you think, boss?' He takes another sip from his beer bottle, picks up a blunt from an ashtray in front of him, lighting it up.

'I know, stupid question huh?' I say. Feeling uncharacteristically soft, I lean forward, putting my arm around his shoulders. 'C'mon, let's get the fuck outta here, go for a drive or somethin'.'

I get up from the bar and walk towards the garage, turning to make sure he's following me. I turn my head to Shaundi and shout, 'You're in charge!'

She gives me a dorky double thumbs up and I can see Pierce's pissed off expression but exit before he can start whining.

'Check it out,' I say gesturing to a new vehicle. 'Picked up a Cosmos yesterday, no top. Whaddya say we cruise down the freeway a little?'

He shrugs, still carrying his beer bottle, although he's not drinking much from it.

I get in the car and wait for him to join me. He does, but slowly. I would say he's stoned, but I know him too well. He's just... _fucked_.

We drive off, the night still and quiet compared to the riot we just left. The air is cool, a breeze flowing, it feels good, calms me down. It's rare I have moments like these. I'm always working, always fighting. I don't think I ever really drop my guard, unless I'm with Johnny.

On a whim, I take the west freeway, heading towards Pleasant View. I turn the radio on, switching stations until I find The Mix. Maybe some corny '80s tune will lighten the mood. Probably not, but I figure it's worth a shot.

You probably wouldn't think this by looking at me, but I love nothing more than singing along to the radio. That's one thing Pierce and I can agree on.

The song playing is pretty apt after all the carnage of the week just passed; Everybody Wants To Rule The World. I have a terrible voice, totally out tune, but I sing anyway.

 _Help make the most_  
Of freedom and of pleasure  
_Nothing ever lasts forever_  
_Everybody wants to rule the world_

I glance over at Johnny, but he's not giving me anything back. Just holding that blunt morosely, he hasn't even taken a hit from it since he lit it.

We're speeding down the freeway, barely any cars on the road. It feels great to just cruise, with no traffic, no cops, no gangs. I take an exit on the right, swinging round to the university district. Since it's a Friday night, it's pretty busy here. Lots of pledge rush bullshit going on, sorority chicks stumbled around wasted in big groups, frat boys singing Greek chants.

I drive round until I hit my destination, an old abandoned drive in theatre. Stopping the car, I get out and go to the trunk. I pull out two 40s I had stashed for a special occasion. I pass one to Johnny over the door and take mine with me, where I hop up on the bonnet and recline back, my elbows supporting me.

I pop the cap off of my bottle with a lighter I found in my pocket and take a deep swig.

'C'mon, join me, I ain't gettin' wasted on my own here,' I call back to Johnny. Thankfully, he does actually get out and sits next to me. He wordlessly passes me the blunt, which I light and inhale from.

'It'll get easier,' I say, looking up at the stars. 'We're all here, man. You don't have to mourn alone.'

'I know,' he replies. 'It's just so fuckin' _dark_ without her.'

Again, uncharacteristically, I move up to him and put an arm around his shoulders, my bottle secured between my legs. I rest my head against him, hear him sigh.

'I really love her - I mean, I _loved_ her,' he says, his voice a little thick. Maybe from emotion, maybe from the blunt. I won't point it out.

'You're never gonna stop lovin' her,' I assert. 'Like you ever could. I fuckin' miss her too.'

'I been shot more times than I can remember and it never fuckin' hurt like this.'

He's right. Love is fucking brutal. It's the most dangerous substance in the world, you ask me.

All I can do is hold him to me, let him just be, staring up at the night sky together.


End file.
